


Where Dreams Lie

by profoundlyfaded



Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Exploring Alternates for Comics, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 10:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profoundlyfaded/pseuds/profoundlyfaded
Summary: When the Hero of Ferelden discovers her beloved tomb at Weishaupt has been desecrated, she goes on a mission to find those responsible.With the help of Isabela and Varric, Elissa travels across northern Thedas to right this terrible wrong.But what she finds at the end of the path, is not what she is expecting.





	Where Dreams Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Not my first foray into this fandom, as you will see if you head to my FF page. 
> 
> This piece was written in response to what could happen when Dragon Age tie-in don't match your game canon.
> 
> Please note, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

A large, battle roughened hand stroking her child swollen belly was the first thing Elissa knew of as she woke. Her skin pricked at his touch. She enjoyed the soothing sensation of his presence. Elissa moved her hand to cover his. As their fingers entwined, the baby kicked out where their hands rested. Alistair responded by pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck. Elissa opened her eyes, clenching his fingers as she watched the tree dappled light sway over the floor. Despite the devastation left by the Blight, summer arrived quickly that year. 

‘You’re in bed late,’ she remarked, turning her head to look at him. 

Alistair chuckled. ‘I’ve already been up once,’ he replied before he dipped his head to kiss her. 

Elissa responded by turning towards him so they could deepen the kiss. She untangled her hand from his and reached up, cupping his jaw while sinking down into the warmth of their bed. Alistair covered the upper half of her body with his. Elissa brought her arms around him to rest on his shoulders. The tension in his muscles indicated he had already been out to train. He still spent most of his morning in the ring. Alistair could not let go of his previous regimented life to relax. Elissa felt no such hesitation about sleeping late. 

Alistair broke off the kiss to gaze down at her. His brown eyes burnt like amber as he looked at her.

‘I feel like I haven’t seen you in an age,’ she whispered running her hand up into his hair, pulling him down so his forehead rested on hers. 

She huffed out a soft laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the remark. Only last night they had sat together in the royal parlour, her feet in his lap as they whiled away some free time. Alistair’s new responsibilities as a Prince of Ferelden had taken him away from her but he had been rebelling against his expected duties of late. Thankfully, Maric felt inclined to allow his youngest son some liberty now Elissa was near to giving birth. 

‘It’s been a busy year,’ he agreed, pushing himself off her and flopping on the bed beside her. 

She watched him run a hand over his face. Elissa knew he was struggling with the change of pace Maric had given him. Just over a year ago, he was a nobody, just a Grey Warden that had somehow survived Ostagar with her. Elissa remembered with a great deal of clarity when she discovered his true heritage after that. She hadn’t cared. By then, she was already half way to falling in love with him. Elissa reached other and took his hand. Her thumb stroked his knuckles. 

‘We’ll be making the journey to Danesmouth before the months end,’ he declared. 

Elissa nodded. Her hand returning to her belly as their baby pressed against her stomach. ‘It will take longer for Maric to send his orders to you once we’re there.’

Alistair grinned, his face transforming into the man she fell in love with on the road to ending the Blight. She knew he would have been happier remaining a Grey Warden. They’d talked about it, in a great deal of detail, in the run up to the Landsmeet. Even now, after a year of living in the Palace with every whim catered for, she would have still followed him across Thedas as a Grey Warden. However, being a Prince sat well on his shoulders. He made for a popular figurehead in the Kingdom. It helped that they were married and subject to some great love story.

‘We’ll be closer to Orlais for all that cheese and wine you desire,’ she said, responding to his mischievous smirk. 

—//—

Maric planned to travel with them as far as Pilgrim’s Path, a Bann on the edge of the Denerim Arling. He had wanted to travel further, but his advisors insisted he remain in the city to oversee the rebuilding. Work on rebuilding the city after the Siege was slow, but progressing. Elissa agreed with the decision that the King should remain. The people needed the morale boost that seeing Maric in residence would bring them. 

His presumed death during the Blight had shattered Ferelden’s spirit. While Cailen had attempted to hold the Kingdom together, he had not endeared himself as he overlooked Loghain’s treachery with Howe. Despite being Crown Prince, Cailen had found himself in exile by his father, being sent south to assist the people most affected by the Blight while Alistair rose to his duties, introduced to court and had their marriage blessed in a ceremony befitting a union of the Theirin and Cousland names. 

Because of her pregnancy, Elissa sat in a carriage although she looked longingly at the horses. However, she knew she would never be comfortable with her large belly in a saddle. She leant back, watching the fields go by. Last summer, they would have been yellow with corn. Now they were black with corruption. 

Ahead of her, father and son spoke together as they led the group. It wasn’t the most relaxed of conversations, but Elissa had found they never were. 

Both held a sense of trepidation about the other. 

Elissa could hardly blame Alistair for that. Maric couldn’t be put on a pedestal for being a good father to his youngest child. But things were improving between them. The cynical part of her thought it might because she now carried Maric’s first grandchild. Despite his longer marriage to Anora, Cailen had yet to produce a child to carry the Theirin. She and Alistair had been married for less than six months when Elissa discovered she carried their child. A miracle, Alistair had said, given that as they were Wardens. It was supposed to be impossible. But there it was, a child growing in her belly, shortly after their timely defeat of the Archdemon.

She couldn’t bring herself to care. She rubbed her belly, content with her current lot in life. 

—//—

When the sun reached its high point, Maric called a halt for lunch. Alistair dismounted while a groom opened the side door. Elissa got to her feet. She felt ungainly after sitting for so well. Alistair offered out his hand to her. She took it, smiling as she used her other hand to scoop up her skirts so she wouldn’t trip.

‘Alright?’ He asked softly, drawing her in with his voice and eyes. 

She hummed. ‘Just need to stretch my legs,’ she said, pushing up on her tip toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. 

With a last squeeze of his hand, she let go, rolling her shoulders as she walked to the eaves of the woods. She waved of his offer to join her. Elissa waved him off. It wasn’t as if she would get lost. Elissa knew she’d be able to find her way back to Alistair just by following the faint hum in her blood. 

She moved through the trees. Glad of the freedom. While she didn’t like to admit it, it had been easy for her to return to a life of privilege, but sitting in a carriage for hours on end was not she could ever enjoy. Her legs rejoiced in being used and she stretched, reaching up and arcing her back. She looked up, noting the tree canopy was so thick only thick rays of light made it through. Then she heard a voice. 

‘I’m serious,’ said a soft voice laced with a mix of confusion and surprise. ‘Titus should have caught us by now.’

Elissa reached down to place her hand on the hilt of her dagger. Nothing there. She looked down. The belt was too small now she was pregnant. She sighed and stood to her full height, crossing her arms as three people emerged from the woods. 

They all stopped when they saw her. 

‘Well thank goodness we found you,’ announced the dwarf, but then he eyed her stomach and frowned.

Elissa frowned. ‘Just, who are you?’ 

Her eyes flickered over them. The dwarf was a surfacer, and judging by that accent, a Free Marcher. The blonde haired woman, Tevinter. Elissa frowned at her, but she received an unapologetic gaze back. The Rivaini she had a dim recollection off. A Pirate Captain, Isabela, from The Pearl in the middle of the Blight. 

Isabela stepped up to her. Her eyes raked over Elissa’s face with something akin to concern. ‘I’m still figuring this out, but if I slap her, will it wake her up?’

‘Excuse me?’ Elissa demanded, stepping up to the pirate. 

‘Wake you up,’ said Isabela, not shirking from the woman. ‘We need to wake you up.’

‘It’s true, My Lady,’ added the Tevinter. ‘You’re in danger.’

‘You’re the only one putting me in danger here,’ Elissa answered. ‘You ambush me, a Princess of Ferelden…’

‘Trouble, Elissa?’

Elissa looked at King Maric. She frowned. Why would he have followed her into the forest? Her hand went to her belly, fingers spreading wide as if forming a shield over the precious bundle she carried.

‘They’re nought but ruffians,’ said Elissa, turning to face the intruders. ‘Thought I was an easy target.’ 

‘We’re not ruffians,’ the dwarf countered, tugging Elissa’s attention to him. ‘Well, we are, but we’re here to help. Don’t you remember?’

She shook her head, looking around at the motley crew surrounding her. ‘I’ve never met you, or her,’ Elissa said, looking at the dwarf, then the Tervinter, ‘before in my life.’ She pointed at Isabela. ‘I mean, great game of Wicked Grace. Terrible cheater, but you are a pirate.’

‘There are demons coming,’ announced the dwarf cut across Elissa. ‘And a furious Magister who you have pissed off.’She laughed. It was a near to hysterical sound. ‘I’ve never met a Magister in my life,’ she said turning to Maric. ‘When would I have the time? I’ve been in Denerim….

‘Elissa,’ said Maric, cutting her off in a quiet voice. It was an authoritative tone she had not heard before. ‘Let them talk.’

‘What? No,’ said Elissa, running her hand through her hair as a cold trickle ran down her spine. ‘Where’s Alistair?’

‘Pardon?’ said the dwarf.

Elissa paid no heed as she walked towards Maric. ‘Where is my husband, Maric?’

‘I said, let them talk,’ the King replied, his voice stern enough to silence her. 

The Mage stepped forward. ‘Your Majesty, I am Maevaris Tilani, a Magister of Tevinter. While this might look like Ferelden, it is the Fade.’ Maevaris sighed, placing her hands on her hips. ‘Your body is in a state of oneiric suspension and your mind has been ensorcelled, by another Magister, Aurelian Titus. You must remember.’

‘Oh come on?’ Said Elissa, snorting her disbelief. ‘This is Ferelden. Magisters don’t bother coming here to kidnap our Kings and have their little wars.’

‘Elissa, listen to her,’ said Isabela, stepping forward. ‘This is the Fade. None of this is real.’

Again she placed her hand over her baby. But it was the flat, well toned stomach of a fighter. Her clothes had changed to. She looked down at the leathers she now wore. A long overcoat that hid her daggers and a small crossbow hung at her side. 

‘“I’m tired of this, Varric,”’ said the dwarf, advancing on her, ‘that’s what you said, Elissa. “I will find Aurelian Titus and I will kill him for this”. Your words.’ His expression turned sympathetic. ‘I know it’s hard being handed something you want, maybe even need, but you’re telling yourself lies. Don’t be fooled by them.’ Then he turned to Maric. ‘You agree, don’t you, Your Majesty?’

Elissa turned with Varric at Maric. He was still sat on his steed. Behind him the sky had turned a shade of green-yellow. She shook. Her hand slipped into her pocket. It wrapped around a vial at the bottom. She lifted it, popping the cork when it was clear of her clothes and tipped back the contents. 

‘He knows?’ asked Isabela. 

‘Of course he knows,’ said Varric. ‘This is his dream. The life he couldn’t quite grasp. The lie in which he lingers.’

Elissa wiped her mouth clean, her thumb picking up a dribble of lyrium. Her tongue darted out for the last drop and she swallowed. ‘Why dream of me?’ she asked. 

‘It was your dream,’ Maric said sombrely. He got off his horse. His eyes were fixed on her face. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No,’ she said, holding up her hand to stop him. ‘You don’t get to say that. You don’t have the right…’ She swallowed hard then let go of shaky sigh. ‘You said there were demons? Titus?’

‘Us, Titus and his army of demons were pulled in the Fade,’ explained Varric. 

Elissa frowned. ‘And how, exactly, did that happen?’

Varric had to decency to give her a pained expression. She huffed out a dark chuckle with a shake of her head. She ran a hand through her hair. Her eyes lifted to The Black City. She took a few steps forwards. 

‘Titus hasn’t come for us though,’ said Maevaris.

‘You said,’ replied Elissa, turning her back on the City. 

‘Titus is here?’ asked Maric. His hand rested on the hilt of the sword. ‘In the Fade?’

‘Yes,’ said Maevaris. ‘There is no way he escaped the blast that brought us here.’

‘Perhaps he is caught in his own lie?’ Isabela proposed. ‘The twisted world he seems intent on making.’

‘Maybe we could leave him to it,’ Elissa suggested with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘Let the dragons have him.’

‘Not conducive to us escaping, though, is it? It’s his magic that is trapping us here,’ replied Varric, he looked up at Elissa with a sardonic smile playing on his lips. ‘Unless you happen to have something that can rip through The Veil?’

‘Damn,’ she breathed. ‘Left them it with my other armour.’

‘Then we take the fight to him,’ said Maric, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. 

Elissa followed the gesture. Her eyes lingered on the hilt. She knew it well. The last time she had seen it, someone had discarded it on the floor of the mausoleum at Weisshaupt Fortress. She had picked it up, adjusted the weight in her hand before laying it back on Alistair’s tomb. She sucked in a deep breath. It was an angry one.

‘We have little choice,’ said Elissa. ‘It’s his magic that’s trapped us here, isn’t it?’ Around her the others nodded. ‘Then we kill him before he kills us.’

‘How do you plan on doing that?’ asked Maric. ‘He’s surrounded by demons. And dragons.’

Elissa huffed out a bitter laugh. ‘Is that all?’ She pulled a long dagger from her side. ‘I’ve faced worse with good friends at my side and lived. Even when I had no right to do so.’ 

Varric eyed the weapon with a smile. ‘Back to the time honoured tradition of kicking down the door of the person who wants to kill us?’

‘Beats them getting us in our beds,’ replied Elissa. 

She caught Isabela’s smirk. Despite herself, Elissa chuckled. 

—//—

Despite Maevaris explaining the mechanics of the Fade, it still forced them to trek to their destination. They walked in silence. Elissa could only assume they had been caught in their own dreams. She wondered what twisted worlds they had wrought for themselves. Last time she had found herself caught in such a trap, she had been the one to break free and help the others. But one stood out for its similarity… 

Her eyes pricked. Her response was to swipe away the tears with an angry gesture. 

‘You’re Bryce Cousland’s daughter.’

Maric’s voice pulled her from the memory. She blinked as she looked at him. It occurred to her she hadn’t told him who she was. It surprised her that after all this time he would remember her. Her introduction to the Court of Ferelden had only happened the year before the Blight. 

‘No one’s called me that in a long time,’ she said.

‘I knew I recognised you,’ said Maric. ‘I remember you on my visits to Highever. How did you end up a Warden?’

Elissa frowned. ‘You didn’t “see” that bit?’

Maric shook his head. She continued on. She hadn’t expected the trip that far down memory lane. If her mind lingered on Alistair for the moment, then no one could blame her but now she was chasing down an even older hurt. She didn’t recognise the girl who surfaced in her mind. She was a ghost. An unmarred projection of a life once lived. She walked the nightmare. The screams of the occupants of the Castle being slaughtered were so close she could have been there again.

‘We were betrayed,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Arl Howe. The Grey Warden Commander, was also a guest when it happened. To save my life, he took it.’

‘He conscripted you?’ Said Maric, his face thinning into a frown. 

Elissa nodded. ‘There was a Blight. It was needed. He said it was the only condition with which he would save my life. I often wonder if I could have made it on my own.’ She huffed then looked at Varric’s back. ‘But it doesn’t do to live the lie.’ She looked at Maric again. ‘Is he here? Alistair?’

Maric nodded. ‘They all are.’

‘But he isn’t here.’

‘No,’ replied Maric, ‘that was your dream.’

‘I could have saved him,’ she said, her eyes drifting to The Black City. 

Maric raised his eyebrow at her. ‘Really?’

‘I should have kept him off that battlefield,’ she said. ‘He was our King.’

Maric huffed out a soft laugh. ‘You believe think you could have kept him from that fight?’

She lapsed into thoughtful silence. Elissa knew there was no way to stop him. It was why she had put him, them, on the Throne. They were Ferelden’s one chance to unite the country in the right direction. In the months after the Landsmeet, Elissa noted that Alistair took what she had given him to heart. It was his duty to protect his country. She had known deep down he had been willing to lay down his life for that. 

But a little niggle rose. Ordering him off the battlefield hadn’t been the only way. 

‘There was a ritual we - he, could have done,’ Elissa said. ‘Morrigan said it would have saved both of us but it involved dark magic and the soul of The Old God in the Archdemon. Only Alistair’s blood would do.’ She laughed. It was a dark, humourless laugh that prompted the others to look around. ‘I said no on the spot.’ She looked forwards again. ‘After, I wondered if I should have asked him, but I knew… He’d have done it just to ease my mind although he hated her and would have disagreed with it.’ She fell into a pensive silence. ‘I thought about it every day after he died. I even regretted not asking him to partake. Until I met Yavana.’

She continued walking up to her companions who had stopped. They were gazing over a floating fortress. Even from here, the sounds of screams and grating chains was audible. Above them, clinging to the spires were dragons. 

‘For the first time since that day,’ Elissa said, watching a dragon twitch to gaze at her. ‘I found peace knowing I had done the right thing.’

‘He dreams big,’ Isabela remarked. ‘What is this?’

Maevaris was surveying the scene with a dark look in her eyes. ‘He wants to restore the Imperium in this image,’ she said. ‘With the power to reshape the hearts of every man in Thedas.’

‘And you wouldn’t, you you had his power?’ asked Isabela, a note of incredulity in her voice. 

‘No,’ replied Mae. ‘My people have a wounded pride over the past, but this isn’t the answer. Magic doesn’t fix everything.’

Elissa peered over the edge into the depths of the Fade. Her eyes tracked across to a ledge. It led to a series of steps they would need to jump. It would get them where they need. Her gaze returned to the dragons. 

‘We need a plan,’ she said, turning to the group.

—//—

Elissa deemed herself to be an expert at slipping in and out of places without notice. Making herself a shadow had become a second nature during the Blight, but this seemed a little too easy. Above her, the dragons had failed to stir. She had assumed this had something to do with the power imbued into Maric’s blood. Despite her distrust of Yavana, Elissa had known the witch hadn’t lied about the power of Theirin blood. Next to her, Isabela and Varric kept in line with her, not speaking but focused on the first step. 

Elissa was the first to go. She climbed up the side of a rocky outcrop. In the Fade there would be no way to use the Templar abilities without bringing attention to their position. Besides, the shock and awe had faded from that line of attack. Titus would expect it. 

It the time for old fashioned tactics. A group of hooded priests make their way towards fortress. Elissa took one of the smoke bombs Varric had given her. She shook it then rolled the vial towards their retreating feet and ducked as it exploded. With a nod of her head they climbed over the ledge with Varric and Isabela. They made short work of their foes. 

As a team, one that had seemed rather rag-tag, they had worked well together. It had been a long time since working with comrades, but they had fallen into a pattern that almost made her feel alive again. Varric aimed Bianca skyward at shot up their signal. The inevitability of now or never rolled over Elissa. So long as got the others out she’d consider it a battle well fought. 

‘I haven’t had a chance to thank you,’ she said to them. ‘I only asked for passage to Antiva.’

Isabela smiled. ‘Well, if you think I would pass up on a chance to see the famed Hero of Ferelden on a quest…’ Her expression moved to one of seriousness. ‘Thank you.’

She held her hand out to Elissa. Elissa stepped forward to shake it, then looked at Varric who offered his hand. 

‘Someone had to keep you two kids in line,’ he remarked as he let go of Elissa’s hand.

They turned and continued the journey their now dead targets had been taking, finding themselves in Titus gaping throne room. From the conversation, it was clear the man was worried that he hadn’t found them, blaming Mae for their elusiveness. Elissa pondered if he was in control of the dream. They moved together until they were further in the room. Titus’ advisor was backing away from him, wringing his hand as he grovelled out his apologies. Elissa couldn’t help but want to stab the man to shut him up. 

Once he left Elissa dropped her hood. 

‘I bet you wish you’d just killed me in Minrathous,’ she said as she undid the clasp of her cloak and throwing it aside. 

Titus spun to look at her. Elissa hitched her lips up into a vicious smile. She slipped into her defensive position as she pulled her two daggers out. Titus looked at her. His expression denoted his disinterest in her. 

‘Like I have any interest in the lyrium-addled whore of a dead King,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised you could muster the strength to even come here.’

He flicked his wrist in a lazy gesture. A row of demons appeared. 

‘If you think I wouldn’t have come just to avenge the desecration you wrought upon his tomb, then you know nothing of me,’ she replied through gritted teeth as she engaged the first of the monsters. 

There was a screech of metal against bone. Hot blood splattered across Elissa face. Then she kicked the demon away from her. It fell to the floor in a lifeless mess. She moved to join Isabela in taking down a large monster. Her sharpened blades cut through the flesh of the creature with ease. She pulled one free to throw at another demon flanking Varric. She followed it, pulling through as the creatures started to multiple over the sound of Titus’ soliloquy on The Fade and the dragon blood he needed to control it.

Bad guys always found away to justify the means with which to get their end. Elissa found herself opposite Titus again. The battle behind her raged as she circled him. 

‘I knew someone like you would consider any sacrifice necessary on your road to power,’ she said. ‘Will you still think it when someone’s blade slices your heart?’

‘I am the dreamer here, whore,’ he said. ‘You can’t kill me.’

Elissa flicked her eyebrow. He raised his hands, muttering in some ancient tongue. many headed creature slithered towards her. Its tentacles moved from every direction. She sliced her blade down, lopping off one head, but there were more than she could manage. One slipped around her ankle and tugged. It jerked her foot up, and she landed on her back with a sickening crunch. Elissa winched. 

She tried to roll, but another tentacle curled around her wrist. One snaked up her body to her neck. 

Titus stood above her, looking down, grinning with his teeth bared. ‘So here ends the Hero of Ferelden.’

One foot remained free. She brought it up and kicked out, hitting him between the legs. Titus doubled over in pain. It was all she could do as it pulled her up by her neck. The edges of her vision dulled off. She gasped for breath, but she wasn’t afraid.

‘Enough.’

Maric’s voice echoed around the chamber. Distracted by the newcomer, the beast coiled around Elissa loosened its grip. She fell to the floor with an unceremonious thud. Elissa put her hand to her throat, coughing as she scrambled up into a sitting up position. 

‘Leave her,’ continued Maric. 

‘You?’ Titus laughed. ‘You’re a remnant, a thing of the past that holds no power over this realm,’ he said holding his hands aloft. 

Elissa swallowed, then reached for her blades. ‘Keep the demons off him,’ she yelled getting to her feet and aiming for the closest thing to her. 

‘This world is mine,’ Titus said. The two men circled each other. ‘The Magrallen’s magic is our legacy…’

‘It’s powered by my blood,’ Maric stated as he drew his sword. ‘You aren’t the dreamer here.’

Stillness descended over the room. Even the demons stopped fighting as Titus cowered before Maric. She fleetingly wondered if he had towered over Meghren in the same way before divesting the usurping Orlesian of his head. Maric’s sword swung around in a flash of bluish-silver.

Titus head landed on the floor with a dull thud. The ground shook beneath them. Elissa struggled to maintain her balance as the world around her changed. The surrounding walls crumbled to reveal the green-yellow Fade. The Black City came back into view and they stood on a floating platform. She rubbed her neck while the others tended to their wounds. 

‘That’s it?’ Asked Isabela, looking around once she had wrapped some cloth around a cut on her arm. ‘We won. Just like that?’

‘Yes,’ said Mae, running her hand through her fair. ‘Sad that he didn’t even understand what he was creating.’ 

‘They never do,’ said Elissa, sheathing her daggers. ‘Can we leave now? Any hold Titus had on us should be gone if I understood it all?’

She was looking between Maric and Mae as she spoke. 

‘You can leave,’ said Maric.

‘What about you?’ asked Elissa, looking at the aged King.

Varric stepped forward so he stood between them. ‘I saw his body in Titus’s laboratory,’ said Varric to Elissa, then he looked at Maric. ‘With respect, Your Majesty, you don’t look well. I think-,’

‘The Margrallen is all that is keeping me alive,’ Maric finished, looking the dwarf straight in the eye. ‘Who’s left out there for me, anyway?’ He asked looking at Elissa now. ‘The people I love are all here - Cailan, Alistair, Loghain…’

‘Well, that sounds like a fun party,’ Elissa drawled as her face drew into a hard mask. ‘You think anyone left for me? Everyone I ever cared for or loved is gone except for my brother. But I still have to try. I’m not saying you ride in and take the throne from Anora, I doubt Ferelden would allow it even for all your legacy. But you can’t live this dream either. There is no world where Cailan, Alistair and Loghain live in peace. It’s a lie. A lie in which you linger.’

Maric rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. ‘I can say without a doubt, that were he still alive, Bryce would be proud of you.’

Elissa smiled, a soft but sad smile that broke the hard lines that had formed, she hung her head. ‘I doubt it.’ She slipped her hands in her pocket and sucked in a deep breath. ‘So what of it, Your Majesty, live the lie? Or have a chance in the real world again?’

‘I wouldn’t mind tasting real Fereldan ale again,’ Maric replied. 

This time Elissa’s face split into a wide smile before she laughed. ‘If that’s what you’ve been craving…’

A blinding light enveloped them. Elissa felt pushed back, and then she woke. Again. Thick raindrops fell onto her face. She opened her eyes to stormy grey clouds and the sounds of a nearby battle. She turned her head to see the vast Qunari silhouettes cut down Titus’s private army. Elissa pushed herself up with a groan. Her back hurt. She rubbed her neck, but the injuries she had sustained in the Fade didn’t mar her body. Then she pressed her hand to her abdomen. 

The dream churned in her mind. As she looked at the sky. The sensation that this place was the displaced reality flooded her senses. Around her, the colours were too sharp, and the sounds were deafening. The memories from the Fade were so real. Just the memory of Alistair’s voice in her ear prompted goosebumps to explode over her skin. She reached over for her fallen sword. The weight felt wrong. Over heavy. Elissa got to her feet. 

Ahead of her where the main gates. They were a smouldering mess. 

‘Isabela,’ she yelled, turning on the spot to find her companion. 

She sat on the floor, looking around as this world hurt her. Elissa jogged over. The two women looked at each other. Sympathy lit up Isabela’s eyes. For a second, Elissa wanted to smack it out of her. Sympathy was of little use. But then a tiny voice reminded her it meant the surrounding people cared. Elissa offered Isabela her hand. 

‘We have to find Varric,’ Elissa said once Isabela was up. 

‘And King Maric, apparently,’ said Isabela. 

Elissa hummed in agreement. ‘This isn’t what I was expecting.’

She slipped her hand into the pocket of her coat. Her hand closed over a vial of lyrium. She pulled it out. Elissa flicked the stopper out with her thumb, then poured the contents into her mouth. 

‘Life is rarely boring when you are around,’ said Isabela, as Elissa swallowed. ‘Come on.’

Finding Varric became easy. It was a matter of following the bodies with bolts in their eyes. They moved as quickly as they could while being wary of enemies lurking the shadows. However, they had been drawn out by the Qunari. Eventually they found themselves at the top of a great riding staircase. Neither woman found this shocking. Hiding a secret, illicit magical laboratory in was a given. Isabela started to open her mouth, but Elissa silenced her with a shake of her head. 

Elissa stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The strange pulsating humming coming from the room had gotten louder. She tightened the grip on her sword. Just inside the door, Elissa could make out Maevaris, huddled in a cloak with her hair askew. Elissa relaxed a little, then went to join Mae’s side. Mae’s eyes swam with the same sympathy she’d found in Isabela’s. This time, Elissa bore it with dignity. She nodded.

Then she looked at the Magrallen. 

She felt her eyes go wide at the sight of Maric strung up. It was reminiscent of the sacrilege wrought on Cailen by the darkspawn. Her nose wrinkled at the smell, then she exchanged a glance with Varric. The dwarf shook his head sadly. Elissa placed her hand on his shoulder as she walked by.

‘There are healing magics,’ said Mae from behind Elissa. ‘I’ve heard rumours about the Dalish, and another Magister exiled to the Anderfels….’ She trailed off. Elissa looked at Mae, noting for the first time her injuries. ‘Legend says they could graft spirit onto flesh to restore life. But… I don’t know.’

She did not sound hopeful. Elissa shook her head. ‘I don’t think it would be right.’ She walked forward, then around the Magrallen. ‘His soul might not even there. Not after all this time.’

She paused where one of the ugly tubes reached out of the orb and up into Maric. She grabbed it. Then another until they were all in her hand. 

Elissa looked up at Maric‘s face. ‘Draw your last breath, my friend. Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, and be Forgiven,’ she recanted as she tugged downwards on the tube. 

As she did, Maric opened his eyes. He groaned. It was a sound of relief. As the magic ebbed away, flesh ate away to the bone. Elissa cried out in surprise, stumbling back as bones clattered to the floor. She grimaced. Putting her hand over her mouth to fight the rising bile. Behind her, Isabela placed her hand on Elissa’s shoulder, squeezing tightly as silent tears sprung in Elissa’s eyes. 

—//—

They built the pyre on a cliff edge facing south towards Ferelden. Elissa had placed the bones atop it as best she could. Her hand shook as she lit it. She stood in silence watching the flames take hold. Varric watched her. She was near inscrutable but for the pool of emotion in her eyes. There was no one particular emotion.

‘This is the third Theirin King I’ve set to a pyre,’ she said, when she turned to Varric. ‘Elissa Cousland, Hero of Ferelden, Bane of the Theirins.’

‘It isn’t your fault,’ replied Varric. ‘You didn’t kill him. And you didn’t kill his sons either.’

Elissa raised an eyebrow. ‘He was right, about Alistair, I could never have kept him from that last battle,’ she said. ‘He asked me to let him save me, just this once, never realising that he saved me.’ She bit her lip, then it hitched into a smile. 

Her gaze returned to the flaming pyre. As it did, Isabela returned with Mae. She was wearing some decent clothes now and a smattering of make-up covered up the worse of her bruising. Isabela carried a ceramic pot. The simple design was not the urn of the King. Elissa wondered how many people would believe she had stumbled across what remained of King Maric’s life. There was a part of her that felt angry for having witnessed his miserable end. 

Elissa glanced over her shoulder at Mae. ‘Could you?’

Maevaris lifted her arms, muttering an enchantment. The air fell cold. The flames of the pyre die. Then a thin frost covered the remains. Elissa walked up and scooped a few handfuls into the urn. 

‘What will you do with them?’ Maevaris asked. 

‘Return them to Ferelden,’ she said. ‘My brother will see to it. He should be interred at the Royal Vault in Denerim, but I doubt that will be possible. I doubt anyone will believe this.’

At Minrathous, Elissa disembarked The Siren’s Call with Maevaris. She left the urn with Varric, with instructions to take it to Highever. The letter also contained instruction to pay her two companions for the eighteen-month run around she had brought upon them.

‘What will you do now?’ Isabela asked her as they stood on the jetty. 

Elissa shrugged. ‘Return to Weisshaupt for a while, then return south.’

The parting took an unexpected turn when the Pirate Queen threw her arms around Elissa, hugging her. Elissa hugged her back and the two exchanged a smile before she returned to her ship. After giving a regal nod to Varric, she joined Maevaris at the portside. 

The Mage looked at her with interest. Elissa had abandoned her armoured travelling garb in favour of her Grey Warden armour. Grey Wardens, she had explained to the Mage, were less likely to be stopped in their travels and harassed. Besides, she was still a Warden.

‘Do you need anything, before you leave?’ Mae asked as they watched The Siren’s Call cast off. 

‘Lyrium,’ she said, taking a vial from a pouch on her belt. She took a swig then stoppered it. ‘It’ll take time to reduce my intake. And a fast horse.’

‘That stuff isn’t good for you,’ Mae cautioned, watching as Elissa slipped it back into its pouch. 

‘I know,’ Elissa replied, turning to follow Mae into the city. ‘But it isn’t good for the rogue mages that get in my way either.’

‘How did you learn those skills?’ asked Mae. 

‘Alistair trained, for many years, to be a Templar and after he died, I wanted something I could hold on to…’ she trailed off. ‘He warned me about the lyrium. I thought I knew better, could control it.’ She smiled sadly. ‘If the taint doesn’t kill me, the lyrium will.’

—//—

Weisshaupt Fortress loomed against the mountains in the distance. The journey to this point had barely taken a week. There was a grim irony. This quest had started in those halls. She had swept through them in a rage, yelling at anyone who dared come near, to demand who could do it. 

Who would dare desecrate the final resting place of Alistair Theirin?

As she made her way over the desert tundra, she let her horse walk at a slower pace. She had pushed the poor beast down the Imperial Highway from Minrathous. Now there was not a soul insight.

The gates opened on her arrival. The guardsmen unchanged from her last visit and greeted her with solemnity. A groom took her horse as the Seneschal, Meinhard Hagelstein, emerged from the keep in all his majesty. He bowed to her, an acknowledgment of her rank, and only rose when she stood before him. 

‘The First Warden has returned to oversee the investigation,’ Hagelstein informed her as she followed her up the stairs. 

‘I’m surprise Caius finds the time,’ remarked Elissa. ‘How are things in Hossberg?’

‘Uninteresting to you, I am sure Warden Commander,’ he said. ‘But the First Warden has noted your absence from Ferelden. Mistress Woolsey has written often to recommend that you are replaced.’

Elissa smiled. ‘She knows what is best, I am sure,’ she said succinctly. ‘Meanwhile, have you been able to establish how a Tevinter Magister breached these walls?’

‘Sorry?’ said Hagelstein. 

‘See, while you have been sitting on your hands, I know who breached these walls. I even know why. The only part you need to answer is how,’ she hissed. Hagelstein squirmed under the sound of her voice. ‘It’s been two years.’

‘The First Warden…’ started Hagelstein. 

‘Has no real interest in how it happened,’ ground out Elissa. She shook her head. ‘This place is not worthy.’

She marched ahead of Hagelstein, leaving him gaping at the door as she made her way through the keep. Wardens bowed to her as she strode passed with single minded determination. She only stopped when she reached the mausoleum. Here, Elissa slowed. 

The metal of her boots clinked then echoed around the great chamber. There were seven alcoves, one for each Blight. Two remained empty. Elissa’s gut always churned at the thought. The Order remained waiting for two more terrible wars under the gaze of Archdemons. She passed each alcove. The first was a memorial to fifty Wardens who fought Dumat. No one knew who landed the blow that killed the first Archdemon. They nicknamed the second the Memorial of Lovers; Corin and Neriah lay side by side in honour of the joint sacrifice it took to slay Zazikel. A single suit of armour of a warrior who had pushed forward alone represented Toth’s slayer while Garahel’s shrine was the most ostentatious of them all. The man had united all of Thedas to his cause. They displayed his sacrifice in such a way as to tell the Wardens he was the best of the Order. 

Then she reached the shrine of the Fifth Blight. Alistair’s name was carved into marble, his full title as King of Ferelden acknowledged. She walked into the alcove. It was a simple memorial. As she walked alongside the effigy, she rested her hand on the sword in its hands.

Anora had wanted the blade to remain in Denerim. Maric’s sword was a symbol of Ferelden’s freedom, but Elissa had persisted, taking the weapon with her to Weisshaupt to ensure it found rest beside the last man to use it. Besides, the poison of the Archdemon coated the metal making it poisonous to any bar one of the Order.

She placed her hand on the hilt. ‘I found them,’ she whispered. ‘I told you I would.’

Elissa felt closer to Alistair here. She had brought most of his ashes here. She stepped back. Her eyes swam. The remnants of the dream allowed her to identify everything wrong with carving. It would never have his golden eyes, nor would it ever capture his humour. Or any part of him she loved. Those who visited in the distant future would only see the regality of King taken in his prime.

Her knees gave out. They hit the floor with a metallic clank. Elissa wrapped her arms around her middle. The ache she had been bottling up let loose and she sobbed out her anguish on the marble floor.


End file.
